Mine
by hilarryousmefics
Summary: I wrote this with a friend who has an amazing writing talent BUT DOESN'T WANT TO ACCEPT IT. There were some conflicts in our writing styles. She was feeling the artsy-fartsy whereas I was just feeling the fartsy.


Maka loved the way that the soapy bubbles clung to her skin as she washed away the swirling images that Soul had left for her. The sharp angles she stroked along his back and thighs contrasted white against his tan. He was facing away from her, giving off the perfect view of his curves and lines.

Soul reveled in steamy hot water as he admired the handiwork of his girlfriend of five years. Since they moved in together he thought everything would change, but it hadn't. They were still together, they were still happy, they were still in love. She was going through her artsy phase, and was getting him into it. They were painting everything, the walls, the papers, even each other.

"Soul?" Maka asked, sliding off suds from her small but ample chest. Soul turned, taking her in a like a cup of tea.

"Hm?" He wiped his hand against ivory stomach, taking some of his swirling artwork with him. Hands were an important part of their relationship. Soul's were strong, Maka's were soft, his were careful, her's were dexterous. Hands made patterns and etched thoughts on each other's bodies, slender fingers traced ideas on eachother's hearts and minds.

She leaned against the tiles of the blue shower wall, idly rubbing the white paint from one of her arms. Maka was like a dream, warm and wet and smiling up at Soul. She was hardly nineteen, but something in her was as young and as ancient as the water clinging to the both of them as the windows and mirrors of the room fogged. She had a grin on her face that was mildly suggestive to say the least.

"Why the face?" He asked slyly, his faint bit of a grin suddenly flashing white on his own face. Maka looked up at him and sparked an idea. Blue body wash was soon introduced into the mix, her hands sliding up and down the beige tones oh his chest. She slid up and down the with the movements, a sort of dance that was purely visual, the music was in their minds. Maka smiled wide, he noticed how happy she was. He couldn't help but imagine them dancing together.

All of the sudden she didn't come back up. Lathering at the ankles, something was going on. Head rush, power trip, lazy sunday afternoon, all came rushing to him at once. She loved him so much in that moment, he could feel it, he could feel it in her motions. He tangled his fingers in her hair, a moss of blond and blue.

"It's moments like these when I remember why I met you. I like to think that it's love, or that it's meant to be, but it isn't." She looked up at him, confused. "I don't think it matters what's supposed to happen at this point." He kneeled down to her level, feeling the hot shower pounding down on both of them as she was no longer protected by his shadow. "All that does matter is that we made it here, Black Star is not for the time being, and that we can take it further."

Maka leaned in, and then down. There was that lazy sunday again. That cool glass of beer. That king of the world feeling.

"Maka, what are yooooou-" He was cut off, by her face of defiance.

"I want you to feel this." That was all she said, that was all she had to say. Soul enjoyed the gift he was given.

When she finished, the look of satisfaction was evident. He was hers, captive to her whim. He could tell what she was thinking. Making her way up his navel, kiss after kiss trailed it's way up his chest and past his neck the final landing on his forehead.

"Do you love me?" Suddenly, the door burst open.

"A-HA!" Black star burst in, kicking down the door. He paused, "Oh, this

room occupied?" He awkwardly closed the shower curtain, pulled down his pants, and selected his favorite magazine from the rack, MOOD GONE. Although it could have been worse had he not grown out of that 'screaming like a bitch every time he saw a naked woman' phase.

"LEAVE THREE INCHES FOR JESUS!" he strained as he pushed out a log.

Maka lept from the shower, taking the curtain with her as she ran away to her room. There was a moment of indescribable silence as the two made perfect eye contact as Soul attempted to cover his now deflating erection with his hands.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go." Black star was already turning the page as Soul awkwardly did the cowboy walk of shame out of the now horrific room. He was looking for Maka, who was nowhere to be found. "Maka?" He looked in her room, holding a throw pillow over his nearly fully retracted into his body junk, or at least it felt like it was.

Soul searched for his mate everywhere. Under her desk, all around her bed, when suddenly, surprise adoption. Pale mass of girlfriend leaped from nowhere, pinning his still wet body to the fluffy bedsheets.

"Mine."


End file.
